


First Impressions

by thatsfarce



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Gen, Kid fic?, Mild Gore, Pre-Canon, i guess?, i really don't know my dudes, this is my first fic i don't know what I'm doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-27 16:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14429508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsfarce/pseuds/thatsfarce
Summary: Sid shows up in Kembleford for the first time...and proceeds to rob everyone. Father Brown has other plans for him.





	1. Chapter 1

Father Brown awoke to a quiet clatter coming from the general direction of the kitchen. He lay in bed for a couple of tense seconds, waiting to see if he had dreamed it. No, something was definitely wrong with the usual rhythms of the old presbytery. The fact remained that there was an intruder in his house. 

After donning his slippers and bathrobe, the father made his way quietly down the stairs. He was already thinking up several completely reasonable alternatives as to who would break into his kitchen in the middle of the night: Mrs. McCarthy forgot something and tried not to wake him, a disreputable youth of the village who had one too many drinks that night, a strain of more ambitious raccoons, etc. None of his speculations proved true, however. 

Father Brown stepped into the empty kitchen. Evidently, the intruder was cleverer than the father had originally given them credit for. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the every object out of place. Other than the collecting tin on the mantel, which was to be expected of a robber, the only thing that was disrupted was the pantry. The stale bread that was intended to serve as part of Father Brown’s breakfast was absent, and one of Mrs. McCarthy’s treasured jams was open and half-empty on the table, where it had not been before. 

The final bit of evidence that Father Brown noticed, was that the back door was still locked, meaning the intruder would have had to pass the stairs to vacate the presbytery. In other words, the intruder was still somewhere in the room. 

Father Brown made his decision. 

Using eggs that had been generously gifted by Mrs. Pumphrey earlier that day, Father Brown set about making a sramble. The father had never been a devoted student of culinary arts, but he did his best. As he worked, he spoke to the seemingly empty room.

“I wouldn’t blame you for making a break for the exit, but bear in mind, there are some lovely eggs in store for you if you stay, and I may have to involve the police if you leave.” 

There was no response, but the father continued as if there had been. “You must be ravenous. Its very hard to find a good meal these days, what with the war and all.” The room remained silent, but he didn’t hear anyone leave, so the father took that as a good sign. 

When the eggs were completed, Father Brown set the plate on the table.

“Well,” He said to the still empty room, “I have made my choice, now it is time for you to make yours. I could sit here until the eggs get cold and I have to waste them, or you could sit down and eat them. Entirely up to you. I promise I won’t call the police either way.”

A few moments passed before a small figure stepped out from its hiding place behind the cupboard. The boy must have been around fifteen, but he was rather small and thin for his age. He looked like he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in weeks, and had half of the missing loaf clutched in his hand. The boy warily approached the table.

“Hello,” The father said. He gestured at the food. “You can eat. Its alright.”

The boy, seeming to decide an older man in a bathrobe did not stand much threat, sat down and began to devour the eggs. He glanced up occasionally to ensure that the father was not moving. 

Father Brown smiled gently. After a while, when the plate was mostly empty, he spoke again. “I’m Father Brown. What’s your name?”

The boy looked up at him. “Sid,” He stated simply.

“Sid,” The father repeated. “Well, Sid, I think you’re very clever to have gotten in without me hearing. You must be quite good at picking locks.”

Sid gave him a toothy grin. “Its not hard once you know how.” He said.

“You’ll have to show me some day,” Father Brown replied. “Perhaps it will come in handy.”

Sid polished off the rest of the eggs with no trouble. He blinked sleepily at the father. 

“I have an extra pillow and a blanket, so you can sleep in my study, which is no doubt warmer than outside,” said Father Brown.

Sid stared at him with wary eyes.

“There is one other order of business that must be addressed, however,” the father continued. “I do need the money back.”

Sid’s eyes flicked towards the door.

“Please don’t,” the father said, “I know you need the money, but this is not the way.”

Sid’s eyes flicked back to meet Father Brown’s.

“I’ll go get the bedding while you decide.” Father Brown left the room, saying a small prayer to himself. When he returned, some (but not all) of the stolen money had been placed on the table. The boy was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

News about a cat-burglar in Kembleford spread throughout the town over the next few weeks. Father Brown did not speak to anyone about his nighttime encounter, but he quietly monitored the Sid situation. Sid mostly stole food, in addition to a few pounds here and there. 

Sid didn’t try to steal from the father again.

Father Brown did not see Sid again until about a month and a half after the incident. 

The police sirens were what woke him. Father Brown tossed and turned restlessly for a few minutes, but eventually he gave in and descended the stairs with a candle. The father poured himself a glass of water in the wavering candlelight. He could see a glimmer of light on the horizon through the presbytery window.

A quiet, almost imperceptible knock came on the door. 

Father Brown checked his pocket watch. It was well past midnight. He opened the door curiously, and was mildly surprised to find Sid standing in the doorway. 

The boy looked up at him with wide, scared eyes. He was clutching his right arm.

“I think you’d better come inside.” Father Brown said, ushering Sid across the threshold. 

Sid’s arm dripped blood on the floor as Father Brown guided him into the kitchen. “Sit down.” The father ordered. He adjusted his spectacles and examined the injured arm. There was a long, shallow gash stretching from his elbow to his wrist with what seemed to be a shard of glass caught in it. All-in-all, it was a nasty and no doubt painful wound, but Sid was not in immediate danger. 

“So,” Father Brown began, “What happened?”

Sid stared at the floor silently. 

“As I am currently hiding you from the police and tending to your injuries, I believe you owe me at least that.”

The boy looked up and smiled slightly. “I snuck into the Montague estate, but someone was awake…or maybe they had a guard…” 

Father Brown grabbed a pair of tweezers from a drawer. “Please, continue.” He said in response to Sid’s worried glance.

“So,” the boy continued, “I ran. Had trouble with the window. It was locked. I-” Sid yelped as Father Brown yanked out the shard of glass. Father Brown slid a basin under the renewed drip of blood. “I broke it.”

Father Brown held a dishcloth against the cut. “I’ll need to go get something to wrap your arm with.” Father Brown gave the boy a pointed look. He doubted the boy would run again, but the father wasn’t taking any chances.

Sid looked down guiltily. “I’ll stay.” He mumbled. 

“Hold that,” The father ordered, allowing the boy to take the rag from him. “And don’t steal anything.”

When the father returned, Sid was still there, looking exhausted and scared. Father Brown wrapped his arm gently, all the while keeping an eye on Sid out of the corner of his eye. The boy never seemed to relax, as if he was ready to run at any second. Perhaps it had not been wise to encourage him to stay in the presbytery at their first meeting. 

“There,” Father Brown said. “All done.”

Sid pulled his arm to his chest and gingerly toyed with the bandage.

An awkward moment of silence followed.

Father Brown let the moment hang in the air, his gaze making Sid squirm slightly in his chair. Eventually, the father said, “I won’t pressure you to stay again. You’re free to go, if that is what you wish. You are also welcome to stay.”

Sid remained silent but met Father Brown’s gaze. 

“I don’t believe you deserve prison for your crimes,” Father Brown continued, “so I will not turn you over to the police. But please, remember that there are other ways. If you wish, you could perform tasks here in exchange for food or money.”

Sid continued picking at his bandage. It took him a moment to respond. “I can’t,” He said.

Father Brown considered this response. “Why?” He asked.

“I’m going home. I have to go home.”

“Where is home?” Father Brown countered.

“London.”

“Your parents live there?” Father Brown asked softly.

Sid stiffened and looked up at Father Brown. “They used to,” He responded. 

Father Brown regarded the boy grimly. It was a sad detail, but by no means an uncommon one anymore. “I’m sorry.” He murmured. After a few moments he continued, “Perhaps London is no longer your home. You could always find a new one.”

Sid silently stood and walked towards the door, pausing in the doorway. “Thanks for the help,” He mumbled before leaving.

Father Brown went back to sleep and was readily prepared to greet the police with a befuddled ignorance when they knocked on his door in the morning. 

Mrs. McCarthy arrived at the same time she did every day and had her own very strong opinions to voice about the situation. “Now Lord knows I am not one to gossip,” She said as soon as the subject arose, “but Mrs. Bennet tells me that the Montague estate was broken into last night. It must be why the police are crawling all over town this morning. Its just like them not to take it seriously until the Montagues get involved. All the same, I would keep all the presbytery donations under your mattress tonight if I were you. Who knows when he’ll strike again.”

Father Brown, for his part, was not willing to give up on the boy, especially after the revelations of the previous night. He was determined to protect Sid in any way he could.


	3. Chapter 3

Sid took another swig of his pint. “Once I’d stolen from just about everyone in Kembleford, it got too dangerous to continue. Eventually, I decided Father Brown wasn’t that scary and let him help me out. He got me my job with Lady F, and the rest is history.”

Father Brown smiled softly. 

Bunty gaped at the two of them before snorting and guffawing in a very un-ladylike manner. “You’re telling me,” She said, gasping for air. “That you met Father Brown by stealing from him? And there’s really nothing else to the story?”

Sid shrugged in the affirmative.

“Father,” She said, still repressing giggles, “You just…took in a teenage thief without any further explanation? You didn’t even have him convert or repent or something?”

“Well if I wasn’t going to look after him who was?” The father reasoned. “The police certainly couldn’t be trusted.”

“I was looking after myself alright,” Sid objected.

Father Brown gave him a pointed look. “You were surviving off of stolen scraps, I would hardly call that ‘looking after yourself.’” 

“Eh, I would’a been alright.”

“And as for the repenting,” The father continued, “You try getting this one to attend confession.”

Sid snorted. “Honestly, I didn’t even know how until he had me impersonate a priest.”

Bunty nearly spit up her pint. “Until he WHAT?!?”

“Oh yeah, you weren’t here for that.”

Father Brown watched Sid as he animatedly recounted the tale. In truth, he had never seen it as a priority to get Sid into the confessional. Despite his occasional dalliances with criminal activity, the man had a good soul, and had his own peculiar way of making amends with God. 

Father Brown was never sure whether or not Sid believed, as he had never seriously broached the subject with Sid. All the same, Father Brown was sure that God, his God, would forgive Sidney Carter. 

There were so many people in the world that the father couldn’t save, but he had managed to save this one. And it just happened to be one that he cared about a great deal. For now, it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fic so be nice. Also, I am small and stressed and should be doing other things.


End file.
